


Art and Science

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/F, Swimming Pool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a paradox at the heart of every Companion's training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art and Science

The paradox of a Companion's training is this: from the moment a girl or boy begins down their path, they expend and utterly fabulous amount of effort to make their every move seem effortless. The Guild is exact in their expectations and merciless in their examinations: they test knowledge of art, theatre and literature; talent in music, calligraphy and dance; fluency in languages; extemporaneous speaking skills. Acolyte Companions study history, philosophy, political science, psychology and biology, they rehearse the manners and rituals of a dozen worlds, they memorize names and flags and jokes and poems. And through it all they must look the part, must expend the time and effort to tone their bodies and paint their faces and select exactly the right jewelry to coordinate with the pattern of a robe.

The art of the artless. Every glance, gesture, word unpinned by tremendous labor and calculation. And all of it aimed at the goal of complete perfection, a flawless façade to serve the client's stated and unstated need.

Which is why Inara was swimming.

_Five more lengths,_ she told herself, but she knew by the burning in her muscles that she'd be lucky to mange one. The pool of the House Madrassa was big, and she had been swimming laps since before dawn; the skylights now glowed rose and orange, streaked with indigo clouds. She tried to focus on her form, the careful arc of each arm and the rhythm of breathing, but fatigue made her sluggish and she had to stop, ten feet or so from the side, to float on her back and pant. The thought of breakfast wandered across her mind without leaving much of an impression.

She blamed the water in her ears for not noticing the footsteps on tile sooner, but she did eventually notice them, moments before Nandi called out, "I've heard of the Mermaid Form, but I think you're taking it a little far."

Inara didn't spare the breath to answer; instead she kicked her way those last ten feet and pushed herself out of the water. Nandi was dressed in green today, and she was holding a large towel the color of goldenrod over one arm. Despite her attempt to project amusement, Inara had an idea why her friend was here. "I'm quite old enough to manage without a mother," she said primly, though the effect would've been better if she could've said it without panting.

"Yes, yes, the sweet sixteen has come and gone, you remember I brought you flowers." Nandi ventured close enough to the edge of the pool to drop the towel on Inara's head, then retreated. "You're going to be late for breakfast if you don't dry off soon."

"I can take a bun from the kitchen on my way to class," Inara said indignantly, fumbling with the towel.

Nandi cocked an eyebrow at her. "You do know the High Priestess is in attendance this morning, right?"

Pi gao, she'd forgotten. Between practices and papers and readings, she had somehow forgotten the date. Whatever look crossed her face, Nandi had the audacity to smile at it, but she was also carrying a hairbrush and a make-up kit under the towel, so Inara immediately forgave her for it. "Would you help—?"

"Of course not," Nandi said even as she settled herself on a bench. "You've made this bed and now lie in it."

Inara toweled off quickly—at least she hadn't bothered with a bathing suit, so there was nothing to peel off and dry out—while Nandi arranged the contents of the kit. Blush and lipstick and mascara and powder, in tiny jeweled cases, exactly the kind of props a Companion needed for her work. "Hair," Inara ordered, and sat with her back to her friend while she started choosing colors.

"Clothes first, fan tuong," Nandi said, and luckily she'd even brought a shift out of Inara's wardrobe—white, not her best color, but it would suit in a hurry. Inara pulled it over head, silently thanking her body that she could still get away without wearing a bra, at least some of the time. The bodice that laced over the shift would be enough, if Nandi had brought it, and of course she had, because attention to detail is what Companions _do._

Inara let Nandi work while she applied her make-up, barely even needing the little folding mirror—she'd been doing this herself since she was twelve. Nandi went at the wet mass of Inara's with a brush and comb and the towel, but she also said quietly, "While we're on the subject of lying in beds, though—why _weren't_ you in yours? Decided that Amazon is your new style?"

Inara tried not to press her lips too tightly together while she applied liner. "I've been skipping exercises to study," she said as clearly as she could without smudging anything. "Needed the break."

"Swimming till you drown constitutes a break?" Nandi asked.

For Inara, yes; the pool was wide and deep and made of sharp angles, but being in the water reminded her of the pond behind her parent's summer house near Xijing, of the summers before she was sold to the Companion's Guild. (Perhaps not sold, exactly; surely her father had spent more in gifts and favors than the High Priestess had repaid in fat golden tokens, the ancient symbol when a child was given over. But they were paid out, and for a time Inara had consoled herself that at least the Guild, unlike her parents, had wanted her.) She didn't try to explain this to Nandi, though; she said instead, "It clears my mind."

Nandi sighed, and paused long enough to smooth the ball of her thumb over a bit of skin below and behind Inara's right ear. The gesture was all the more intimate for not being intimate at all; they were acolyte Companions, already thoroughly versed in the mechanics of sex and pleasure, and where a kiss or a stroke or squeeze would be practiced and planned, a bump or a brush was somehow real instead. "I thought that was why we meditated all damn day."

Inara snorted. "Just because you fall asleep…"

"I never fall asleep!"

"Right, of course you don't. My mistake."

Nandi gathered a few locks of hair and started on an unfamiliar braid pattern. "You are avoiding the question, Acolyte Inara. What is the point of our spiritual practice?"

Everything about the question was calculated, a teasing, long-suffering tone to offset the formality of it, a lesson wrapped in a joke, and Inara felt suddenly and inexplicably betrayed. "My apologies, Mistress Nandi," she said, injecting just a touch of venom into the exchange. "Our spiritual practice brings balance to our hearts and binds us to our service."

In revenge, Nandi pulled her hair. It hurt. "So if you're not balancing your heart in the temple, how are you doing it in a swimming pool?"

Inara held up the little mirror so Nandi could see her stick her tongue out. "You know, the wiser-that-thou act got old our first year here."

"It's not an act if it's true, _meimei."_

Instead of answering, Inara finished her eyes and started packing up the kit. "Maybe I don't see what my heart has to do with anything," she found herself blurting, because this was Nandi and they were alone in the pool house, though she cursed herself in the next breath for slipping up, giving too much away. What was the point of acting lessons if she broke character?

"Oh, _meimei."_ Nandi suddenly wrapped her arms around Inara's middle and pulled her close, all heedless of her damp hair or fresh makeup, until she could rest her head on Inara's shoulder. "Heart's the whole point."

_Of course,_ is what Inara should've said, but, Nandi, alone. "The point of the presentation? The projection? What's my heart got to do with being the client's Perfect Companion?"

"How can you be a Perfect Companion if you keep your heart hidden away?" Nandi reached up and toyed with a bit of lace on the neckline of the shift, just above what cleavage Inara had, and she'd probably planned it minutes in advance but it didn't feel that way. "Inara, the first one we serve is ourselves. If we're only there in body then we might as well be common whores. If you're heart's not in your service…"

There was no need to finish. Inara sighed. "It is," she said. "I just…it's hard."

"God, I hope so," Nandi said. "Otherwise we're taking all these lessons for nothing."

And that made Inara laugh, and the gentle press of lips against that spot behind her ear didn't feel like a move on a chessboard. Maybe because Nandi had perfected the art of the artless, or maybe because she was Inara's friend—there were plenty of friends among the acolytes, friends and _friends_ and Inara thought Nandi could be that too, if she could trust her that much. If she trusted herself.

So she turned around and catches the edge of the kiss, more of a sweet nuzzle than anything before Nandi pulled back and handed her the soft bodice instead. "High Priestess," she reminded Inara gently. "Don't want to be late to see the women whose job you want so badly."

"I do not," Inara said, pulling the bodice on and tugging on the laces.

"Could've fooled me, Miss Mermaid," Nandi said. "C'mon."

Inara stood, and there was already an ache in her legs; by the end of the day she'd be sore all over. "I don't want to be High Priestess," she said, even though she sort of did, and the power and the freedom that came with it. "I just…want to do the best I can."

Nandi linked her arm through Inara's and smiled at her. "If this is your best, then I'd hate to see half-effort. Now, _lai le!"_ And arm in arm, they stepped out of the pool house and into the golden morning.


End file.
